


In the Dark

by zenonaa



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: F/M, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 09:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12627639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenonaa/pseuds/zenonaa
Summary: '“Fira-sensei doesn’t look it, but she’s a romantic,” said Junko. “Well, judging by the manga that she reads. If you cosplay her favourite couple, that will be sure to up your chances.”'The class takes part in a costume contest for Halloween. Togami reluctantly goes along with it.





	In the Dark

Today was a rare day when Kiyotaka didn’t have to round up certain members of their class so everyone was in full attendance. Despite lessons being optional, some people usually attended anyway, such as Makoto, Aoi and Byakuya, but the likes of Leon, Yasuhiro and the twins sauntered into the room on this particular morning without Kiyotaka having to run out ten minutes before their homeroom teacher was due to arrive.

Byakuya narrowed his eyes at Junko as she sat at her desk. He couldn’t feel Touko’s gaze drilling into the back of his head, and she was there, right behind him like everyday, so she must have been observing how lively the classroom was today too.

Something had to be up.

“Wow, everyone’s actually here,” commented Makoto, pointing out the obvious.

“Didn’t you hear, Naegi-chi?” asked Yasuhiro as he slid onto his chair from the side, two desks to the right of Makoto.

“Hear what?” Makoto asked back.

Yasuhiro looked past Sayaka and gave a small wave. “Fira-sensei is going to make some sort of announcement for Halloween, ‘right?”

Makoto offered a blank stare. Byakuya rolled his eyes and adjusted his hold on his book. He skimmed through to find his place again, and then resumed reading it.

“Nobody told you?” said Yasuhiro incredulously.

The book was in the detective genre.

Aoi, seated in front of Sayaka, twisted around in her chair and slapped herself on the forehead.

“I knew I left someone out!” she said, though if that was her reaction to forgetting one person, she needed to do it again because Byakuya hadn’t been informed. However, she might not have forgotten in Byakuya’s case.

Anyway, they had just discovered the victim’s body, in his book.

“Geez, Naegi, you need to wear something distinguishable, like a hoodie,” said Aoi. “Yesterday, I was helping Fira-sensei put away the cones after track, and she was saying how she wishes that we got involved in stuff outside of classes more, and I said people usually like to do stuff if there are prizes, and then she said she had an idea for us for nearer Halloween but she wouldn’t say what until homeroom today.”

When Byakuya glanced up, Aoi had lifted her chin and held out her fists in front of her. Eyes merely obeyed orders and reflected light, but somehow, hers bore a sparkle like the beam of light on the ceiling flickered, faulty.

“Afterwards, I tried to tell everyone, because it has to be something cool,” added Aoi. “Like... maybe it’s a group project, or a festival, or a party where we bring in awesome delicacies like frosted donuts.”

Everyone else seemed to have come to a similar conclusion. Mondo, Junko and Leon checked their phones, only letting the screens fade to black for a few seconds at a time, for once impatient for their teacher to arrive. Yasuhiro leaned back in his chair, feet on the desk, and tracked the thinnest hand on the analog clock on the wall be jerked around in a rotation. Makoto scrutinised it as well, and Byakuya didn’t realise that he had zoned out on it too until a perky voice piped up.

“The more you stare, the longer it’ll feel like it takes for a minute to pass,” Sayaka said, sat behind Aoi and between Makoto and Yasuhiro.

Makoto twitched and then stroked the back of his neck. Byakuya blinked and settled on a grimace.

Sayaka grinned, verging on a giggle, and tapped herself on the chin. Seconds later, her expression sobered. “I wonder what it could be?” she mused.

Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait long. Fira-sensei strode into the room with her head held high and with her brunette bob carrying a recently washed sheen. She had barely been standing by her desk, setting down a folder, when voices bombarded her, talking over one another.

“One at a time, please,” she said, looking around and patting the air like extinguishing a small fire.

Kiyotaka fell silent first. His hand shot up, arm straight.

Fira-sensei pointed at him. “Ishimaru-kun?”

He stood up.

“I don’t want to indulge in rumours, but Asahina-kun,” right away with the name drop, “informed me that you had a special announcement to give today.”

“Huh?”

“You mentioned it yesterday,” Aoi clarified, dispelling the haze of confusion in Fira-sensei’s eyes.

“Oh, right!” Fira-sensei’s face lit up and she snapped her fingers. “Yes. Okay, so I thought that we could have a party on Halloween to celebrate how hard you’ve all been working, and maybe help me get to know a side of you that my teaching plan doesn’t get to show off.”

Some people in the class most likely didn’t deserve to be rewarded for the effort, or lack of, put out so far. Leon cupped his hands behind his head with a bored frown.

The fourth chapter of Byakuya’s book started on the next page.

“It will be fancy dress too,” Fira-sensei said while Kyouko’s shoulders slumped and Celes fished out a textbook from her bag. “You’ve all got two weeks to come up with a costume and whoever, or whichever group, has the one I end up liking the most will win a prize.”

Kyouko lifted her head by a fraction. “What’s the prize?”

Not many prizes would satisfy everyone. Some would appeal to many, like a cash prize would work for Celes and Yasuhiro but not for Byakuya and Touko, and a trophy might catch the attention of Aoi and Kiyotaka while Leon and Kyouko could have taken it or left it with the same feeling for both results.

However, Fira-sensei tapped her nose and said, “It’s a surprise,” and that stayed in their minds, like a fly trapped in an empty classroom.

* * *

 

Four days after the announcement, Byakuya went to the library once his final class of the day had come to an end. After claiming an unoccupied table, he had got to work answering some practice questions on an old English novel borrowed from the library, and roughly an hour after he arrived, he happened to look up while prodding his glasses in the same direction.

Makoto blighted his vision, growing larger as he approached Byakuya’s table.

Byakuya’s jaw clenched and he assumed Makoto had come to spend time with him, so he braced himself, but halfway there, Makoto diverted his path and instead wandered over to a bookcase that Sayaka was crouched next to, and he walked up to her with a dopey smile that brought out a scoff from Byakuya that went unnoticed.

Sayaka didn’t raise her head but hearing him, or maybe just sensing his presence, she chirped, “Hi, Naegi-kun.”

She continued skimming a manicured finger across book spines.

“It’s ‘The Wind in The Willows’,” she said before the question probably even popped into Makoto’s head. For a few more seconds, she continued searching the row, and then she straightened up, lowered her hand to her thigh, turned away from the bookcase and shrugged. “Oh, well, I can just ask to borrow someone else’s copy. Fukawa-san might own one, so when she is done at her book club, I’ll ask.”

“Y-Yeah,” said Makoto, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s intuition, not mind-reading, so don’t look so scared,” she said with the closest to a smirk as someone like her could get. “What’s up?”

He moved his hand away from his neck and dropped it to his side.

“Um... It’s nothing urgent. I was just wondering, Maizono-san, if you decided what you’re going to dress up as for Fira-sensei’s party.”

The party. Try as Byakuya might, and believe him, he did try, he couldn’t avoid hearing about it. Byakuya already knew too much about it, like Mondo, Kiyotaka, Hifumi and Chihiro were going as some mutated terrapin teenagers, and Junko had bragged about how she and Mukuro would wear something that would set a standard for all future parties, and Aoi and Sakura had spilled glitter over Sakura’s desk on one occasion, nearly twice.

Usually, Byakuya expressed distaste at Touko’s presence in his corner of the classroom, but at least she didn’t mention the party, and so, he had not felt as annoyed by it as he normally would. Her heavy breathing and frog-like eyes were almost welcomed. Encouraged.

Unaware of Byakuya’s thoughts, Makoto said to Sayaka, “I was thinking about being Izuku Midoriya.”

Her vacant stare induced a nervous laugh and a self-imposed head scratch.

“It’s from an anime,” he explained. “If you don’t have anything planned, I thought, maybe, you could go as someone from the same anime? There’s a girl in it called Ochako Uraraka who I think you’d be great as.”

“I don’t watch much anime,” admitted Sayaka. She placed a hand close to her chin and curled her fingers, creating a fist. “And... I would love to, but I’m already set for what I’m going as. I was going to keep it secret, but you told me what you were going as, so it’s only fair that I tell you. And we’re friends, so that’s okay? Right?”

Makoto pressed his lips together and nodded. Byakuya returned to his book a lot later than he ought to have done.

“Well, yesterday, I asked Kirigiri-san about what she had planned, and she said she had no interest in taking part... so we agreed to go as Sherlock and Watson. You know...” Sayaka paused, and Byakuya’s eyes darted up to see why. She tilted her head to one side. “From the TV show? There are some books on it too.”

“... Yeah, I know,” said Makoto. He hitched up his fallen shoulders. “That sounds neat, Maizono-san. I’m glad you could get Kirigiri-san motivated too.”

Byakuya clicked his tongue. They turned their heads toward him. There was no point pretending that the noise hadn’t come from him, and he felt no shame in making it, so he reciprocated eye contact.

“Hi, Togami-kun,” said Sayaka. She wiggled her fingers in his direction. “We were just discussing what we were going to wear at Fira-sensei’s party on Halloween.”

“I heard,” said Byakuya.

“What are you going as, Togami-kun?” asked Makoto.

“Are you just performing pleasantries or is that a serious question?” Byakuya narrowed his eyes. Makoto didn’t answer fast enough, so almost immediately after, Byakuya added, “Obviously, I’m not going.”

Sayaka’s brow creased. “Oh? Why not?”

“Why not?” Byakuya repeated with none of the good intentions that Sayaka had. He put down his book and rose to his feet. “Let’s see, shall we? Whatever the prize is, I can obtain ten of them, and Halloween is for Americans, children and otakus. I refuse to take part.”

“It’ll be fun,” Makoto promised with unwarranted authority, but he didn’t sound too convinced. It seemed he knew Byakuya on some level, then, at least.

Byakuya didn’t walk over to them, exactly, but in order to leave the library, he strode past them, and he tucked the book that Sayaka had been searching for into the bookcase.

“Please, Togami-kun,” said Makoto, but Byakuya silenced him before he said anything else by showing Makoto the palm of his hand.

“I’m not stopping either of you from going, so stop your bleating,” Byakuya said. After that, he left them in a silent conversation carried out by large eyes and closed mouths that drooped at the ends, which he glimpsed as he turned into the corridor outside.

His satchel bounced against his leg in accompaniment to his brisk footfall. Other students passed Byakuya, but they might as well have had blue skin and no eyes or teeth for all the attention he paid them.

A Halloween party... how childish.

At least, Byakuya assumed. He hadn’t been allowed to be a child for very long.

* * *

 

During homeroom the next day, Fira-sensei sashayed over to everyone’s desks one at a time, her loafers meeting the floor quieter than the rain that drummed outside. Each time, she asked the same question.

“Have you made good progress on your costume?”

The answers she received varied more, from affirmatives to shrugs to gestures toward fabric laid out in front. Byakuya’s desk was by the window, and Fira-sensei started on the other side of the room, and as he was near the back, him and Touko were at the end of her winding path.

“Have you made good progress on your costume?” she asked Byakuya once she stationed herself next to his desk.

“I don’t need a costume,” he said, facing forward.

Fira-sensei pressed a row of knuckles against her hip and quirked her brow. “Why not?”

He kept his gaze straight ahead. “I have little to gain from participating. I don’t enjoy dressing up in childish costumes, I don’t enjoy the atmosphere and whatever you intend to be a prize is something I can obtain by my own hand.”

“Y-Yeah,” Touko dared say now. “We’re not children. I would much rather spend my time on other things, l-like planning my next chapter or my future with Byakuya-sama.”

“Those would have to be the same thing, as that’s the only way it could happen,” said Byakuya.

Fira-sensei’s mouth pinched, but not for the same reason as Byakuya’s mouth had, even if they both were expressing disapproval.

“Oh yeah?” said Fira-sensei. She parked her other hand against her hip, pushed back her shoulders and raised her voice. “Attention, everyone!”

There was still chatter.

“In regards to the party...”

Voices died out quickly.

“... some of you don’t seem enthusiastic, so I’m going to reveal what one of the prizes is.” She brandished a finger. “Yes, I said one, because I’m going to be adding some more prizes than originally planned. Everyone who participates will receive extra credit, but the winner... or winners... will be allowed to excuse themselves from the winter run.”

As if this was all happening in a story, lightning struck outside.

The class had only heard of the winter run from other students. Every winter, apparently, Fira-sensei and Yukizome-sensei would take their classes on a brutal run sometime in winter. It was how they made the class sizes smaller, was what some students claimed without proof, but Hope’s Peak was very good at keeping secrets, so it could have been true.

For example, there was the murderous alter that resided in the student behind Byakuya. Still. Who attended their class. Still.

Celes raised a hand. “Pardon me, but aren’t lessons optional? What stops us from opting out of the winter run regardless?”

“Lessons are optional, but tests and exams aren’t,” Fira-sensei countered. “The winter run counts as an exam, and the winner of this contest will be rewarded a top grade without having to do the run. The higher ups require us to make sure you’re all in fit condition and they want to study your endurance. Some of the reserve course guys do it too, and we compare the results.”

She bowed.

“That’s all,” she said. “Please prepare for your first lesson.”

After that development, the room buzzed.

“I can’t do it,” said Kiyotaka, face crumpled. “To enable my classmates to receive a grade that they did not work for... would be a disservice to the educational system and for what I stand for. It would damage their morale if they won...”

“... It really wouldn’t,” said Mondo.

“Therefore,” Kiyotaka bobbed his head, “I resign from my spot.”

“But you can’t!” Hifumi spluttered. “W-Who’ll be Leonardo?”

Meanwhile, Byakuya stared at his reflection and tapped his fingers against his desk, joining the rain in its percussion.

* * *

 

On a grey, Saturday afternoon, Byakuya pressed his finger against the button on the intercom beside Junko’s door and waited for it to open. When it was pulled to, it wasn’t Junko’s face that popped out but one similar, with a rash of freckles and eyes more washed out. If this had been their first time meeting each other, and if she had been wearing a wig, Byakuya might have mistaken Mukuro for her twin sister.

“Ikusaba,” he hailed.

“Can I help you?” asked Mukuro in a mumble more delicate than one would expect from someone bearing the title of ‘soldier’. Even if ‘Super High School Level’ preceded it.

“I doubt you would be of any help in this instance,” he said. “I want to speak to your sister.”

Mukuro breathed in.

“Who’s there?” Instead of Mukuro, Junko called out, and some heavy footsteps later, she appeared next to Mukuro. She slung an arm over Mukuro’s shoulders. “Oh, it’s you! What can I do for ya?”

Byakuya began to explain. “The Halloween party is next week and - ”

Junko clutched herself and burst out laughing. “Were you seriously going to answer? I know why you’re here.” She shut up and narrowed one eye, grinning. “Let me guess, you bet one of the other prizes is going to be a date with Fira-sensei, or a pair of her panties. Don’t get your hopes up - she’s not into your type. Or should I say, your kind.”

He scowled.

“I’m only interested in skipping the winter run,” he said with as much coldness as would be experienced on the run. “I want to know what sorts of costumes you have in your possession.”

“Beg,” she said huskily.

Not much surprised Byakuya, and he wouldn’t have said this surprised him, but he did hesitate. “What?”

She raised her chin, not breaking eye contact. “Beg.”

His nostrils flared. He remained silent.

“Don’t you know what begging is?” asked Junko. Still receiving no response, she said, “Big Sis, show him.”

Junko slapped Mukuro on the back. Hard. Mukuro’s upper body lurched forward like she was about to perform a forward roll, but her feet remained rooted to the spot, and she straightened up soon enough.

“W-What?” said Mukuro.

“Can’t you hear me? Your Dumbo ears should catch more sound than the average human’s.” Junko gestured to Byakuya, who observed the two of them with his arms folded over his chest. “Show Togami-kun how to beg.”

Showing all of her teeth in a cross between a grin and a predator intimidating its prey, Junko grabbed Mukuro by the top of her head and pushed down, forcing Mukuro to her knees.

“J-Junko-chan,” Mukuro whimpered, humiliated pink. It seemed to be that colour - it might have been a different shade, one that Byakuya stuck his nose up at, that crawled underneath his skin.

“Bark,” said Junko, savouring the word on her pointy tongue.

Mukuro hunched her shoulders. “Bark... bark...”

“That’s enough!” That came out louder than Byakuya intended. “I thought you would be able to help me, but you’re just an airheaded ditz, after all. Bye.”

Junko let go of Mukuro’s head and reached toward him. “I was just teasing you both. Geez!“

Byakuya spun on his heel and started to walk.

“I have wigs, and contacts, both for the eyes and people who could get you what you need for your costume,” Junko called after him, but that didn’t sway him. Right, left, right, left. “And if you want to win Fira-sensei over, you’ll want to do a couple cosplay.”

Against his better judgment, he stopped.

“Why?” he asked.

“Fira-sensei doesn’t look it, but she’s a romantic,” said Junko. “Well, judging by the manga that she reads. If you cosplay her favourite couple, that will be sure to up your chances.”

Byakuya peered at her from over his shoulder. She was smiling with her eyes and her lips. Mukuro dusted her skirt, still flushed in the face but her expression blank. What Junko said made sense, but...

He pushed up his glasses.

“Why should I believe you?” he asked. “Don’t you want to win?”

Junko prodded herself in the chin and screwed her finger against it, pouting, and put on a sickly sweet voice, softening any hard syllables. “My costume is weally good and I’m goin’ to win anyway, so I might as well help! I’m the bestest helperer in the whole, whole class.”

Chalking up her behaviour to a life of being pampered for just looking pretty and to growing up without a stern, no nonsense role model, he turned his head forward again.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Byakuya said, and he overheard them as he strode away.

“... Why did you help him?” asked Mukuro.

“Sorry,” said Junko. “I don’t speak fat, stupid or ugly.”

* * *

 

Rather than have lunch in the cafeteria or in his room, Byakuya remained at his desk. In less than a week, the costume competition would start. Before, between and after classes, many of the students worked on their costumes, trying to do so especially when Fira-sensei was present to show how much work they had put into their craft. At Makoto’s desk, Sayaka compared different blue swatches while Makoto, Mondo, Hifumi and Chihiro crowded around, hanging onto her every word, and Aoi and Sakura tried to cram Yasuhiro’s hair into a purple cap with an upside down ‘L’ on a patch on the front.

The only person other than Byakuya not working on their costume sat behind Byakuya. Touko hadn’t brought her costume in at any point so far, and he didn’t know if she had even started it yet, assuming one existed. Earlier in the competition, he overheard Aoi ask if she wanted to join their group, and Touko had snarled her reply, and since then, no one had either bothered or dared try again.

Byakuya held no reservations. He knew what he wanted to say, and what needed to be done, and he didn’t feel shy or scared or other weak emotions. When he turned his head, he saw Touko absorbed in her notebook, writing like the friction of pen and paper charged a generator that kept her afloat. Never in his life had he felt shy or scared or other weak emotions, yet his tongue caught on his teeth for a poignant fraction of a second as he uttered a particular name.

“Fukawa,” he said.

She didn’t answer. Her aubergine braids coiled on the desk, dormant, asleep, even with the charm of his voice. With her head bent forward, he couldn’t see her eyes, couldn’t see if they were glazed over or raging with fervour. Couldn’t see if her lips were parted or chewed or if the tip of her tongue peeked out. Otherwise predictable, at least to him, she could contort her features into a range of expressions, without the heed and control that others had.

“Fukawa,” he said again.

A spasm danced in Touko’s hand. She jerked her head up. “Byakuya-sama?”

“What costume do you intend to wear for the competition?” he asked, but he knew what he was going to say regardless of her answer. It was the same thing.

Touko’s clammy fingers fiddled with her pen.

“I’m just going for the extra credit... as Medusa,” she said. Her eyes flickered. “She fell in love with a god, and was punished by Athena... made hideously ugly...”

“She fell in love with Poseidon. Yes, I am aware of Greek mythology,” he replied. He rested his arm on the back of his chair and faced her slightly more full on. “Fukawa... How would you like to team up with me instead?”

“T-Team...?” Touko’s eyes went wide before narrowing and a smile spread over her face. She cupped her cheeks that flooded with a pink that flipped in his stomach.

“Yes,” he said, grimacing. “Me and...”

“H-Hold on... Let’s not rush. I don’t want to wake up yet...”

“This isn’t a dream,” he said. He flicked his head. “Now, will you combine forces with me or not?”

“Combine!” she squeaked.

Byakuya’s jaw tightened. “Yes, then.”

* * *

 

As expected, Hifumi was in the art room like many other evenings, and less expected but not surprising, he was joined by Celes. Prior to Touko’s and Byakuya’s arrival, the only other person there apart from them was a girl, sculpting rather than sketching. She didn’t acknowledge either of them, carving wrinkles into a head sculpture.

Touko followed Byakuya to the table that Hifumi was hunched over at. Celes turned her gaze to them but it bounced off Byakuya, while Hifumi continued sketching with thick fingers that fumbled with most other tasks, like brewing tea to Celes’s exact demands. She sipped as she spectated.

“Oi,” greeted Byakuya. “Yamada.”

Hifumi twitched as the line that he was drawing came to an abrupt end.

“Togami Byakuya-dono!” said Hifumi with a jolt. Despite his jump, he didn’t straighten, and he adjusted his glasses so they didn’t sit askew on his flat nose. “Have you unlocked this interaction with me, or is it the other way around?”

Someone needed to learn their place, but that would have to wait for another time. Byakuya set his hand flat against the table and applied a bit of weight to it.

“You are knowledgeable in different genres of manga,” he said. “You know what sort of manga Fira-sensei reads, yes?”

“... I do,” said Hifumi, and he put down his pencil. “Sometimes, I give her recommendations... I like to use my expertise to help those in need.”

“For this competition that Fira-sensei is running, I wish to dress in a couple costume with Fukawa,” Byakuya explained. “You need to tell me which pairing we should go as to appeal to her tastes.”

Hifumi held up an index finger and angled his head in a way that hid his beetle eyes from view, behind lenses reflecting white.

“My time has finally come,” he said in a hushed tone. “I have longed for this day that could only exist in fanfiction...”

His fingertips pattered together with glee. Then he kept them still and squinted.

“But why should I help you?” asked Hifumi. “I would like to get out of the winter run as much as you would. Us three are not unalike in that regard. As meganes, we exist for the arts, for the knowledge, not for exercise.”

Byakuya’s nose wrinkled. “Don’t compare us.”

“Y-Yeah,” Touko snapped. “You’re just a sweaty pig whose only exercise is your right hand under the sheets your mother just cleaned. Don’t align yourself with Byakuya-sama and I, you filthy otaku...”

Hifumi clenched his hands into fists, teeth pressed tightly together.

A sigh escaped Byakuya. With reluctance, he touched his fingers against the bridge of his glasses and said, “If you help us, I will permit you to be in our group.”

“Huh?” Touko’s anger popped. She looked frantically between the two, several times, but found no smirk of a punchline. “W-We’re involving other people?”

“Shut up, Fukawa,” said Byakuya, too impatient for his usual venom. “What do you say, Yamada?”

“My happiness comes from the kindness around me and unfortunately for you, I am already in a group, one that does not make such crass insults toward me,” said Hifumi. He jiggled his glasses. “We already had Ishimaru Kiyotaka-dono drop out and had to replace him with Naegi Makoto-dono. I can’t let my friends down too. Friendship is a more reliable tool than a knife. Therefore, you will need to bribe me with something else.”

Hifumi stroked himself on the chin and when he stopped, he had a grin that any bigger, any sharper, it would have punctured his cheeks.

“Be prepared for a trading quest that would tire even the most determined of hylians,” he warned them.

Celes set her cup down onto her saucer. It clinked.

“Or I could be of help,” she piped up, and she didn’t ask if Byakuya was interested. “Have you heard of a franchise called Magical Girl Raising Project?”

“No,” said Byakuya.

Her eyes twinkled as she pressed her fist against her lips. Byakuya did not like this.

“Well, if you want to appeal to Fira-sensei’s interests, then I recommend you do something from that,” said Celes.

He twitched his head back, eyeing her with suspicion. “And why would you want to help me?”

Celes raised her eyebrows. “Can’t it be because we’re friends?”

“No.”

She laughed delicately behind her hand, each note well-chosen, before lowering her hand to her lap. Her lashes fluttered. “You know, Togami-kun, you’re not as different to Fukawa-san as you believe.”

He clucked but didn’t object out loud, and he certainly didn’t care to hear about what assumptions Celes had made. Touko wrung her hands together.

“Your idea of kindness is really like that of a business, isn’t it?” said Celes, moving on. “If you must know, on the off-chance that you win, you will think of me, won’t you? That would sweeten my loss as it would sour yours, and I can be content with that. However, I doubt that you would win, even with your shadow behind you.”

“B-Bitch,” muttered Touko.

Celes didn’t stop smiling, though it faded slightly, and picked up her cup, nearly empty by then. “Yamada-kun will even make your costumes.”

“I have staff for that,” said Byakuya. He could design outfits, but he couldn’t sew them, and the outfits that he designed were for formal occasions. Not for high school parties.

“And I have a deadline,” Hifumi cut in.

A cold smile from Celes froze the rest of Hifumi’s objections. They fragmented in his mouth, shards that stabbed as he tried to talk so he fell silent.

“But are they Super High School Level?” she asked Byakuya, like Hifumi never spoke.

She let a beat pass.

“Yamada-kun is actually rather good at making clothes from scratch, and until our school enrolls a Super High School Level Cosplayer, he’s the best you’re going to get, particularly at short notice. He will make your costumes, and as a reward, I will let him have a couple cosplay with me,” she said.

“B-But... my friends,” said Hifumi weakly.

Celes’s chilling smile was enough to turn his skin blue.

“R-Right!” Hifumi said. “What should I wear, Mistress?”

Byakuya rolled his eyes.

So much for friendship.

* * *

 

A few hours before the party was due to start, someone rang the intercom by Byakuya’s door. When he pulled the door open, not only was Hifumi there but Touko too, a pair that though people might associate them with the other, if they could help it, would have nothing to do with each other.

In Hifumi’s arms was a large box that Byakuya snatched from him. He poked out his head and investigated the corridor. Everyone in the class had a room on the same floor, and currently, the coast was clear.

“Finally,” said Byakuya. “And it’s totally finished?”

Hifumi bowed his head. “I promise you, Togami Byakuya-dono, that you will find it to a more than satisfactory standard.”

Byakuya turned his attention to Touko, who aimed to reassure him with a nod of her own.

“I did just as you asked, Byakuya-sama,” she told him. “The only rags in it are intentional... One outfit is based on Cinderella, and the other, Prince Charming.”

Hifumi puffed out his chest. “It’s important to know about the characters too, and I’m not talking about just going to their fanmade wikia page. Sonia’s magical ability is that whatever she touches turns into black ash, while Pukin’s sword will brainwash whoever it damages...”

He continued rambling while Byakuya closed the door.

“Good riddance,” said Touko, and she followed up her statement with sniffs as she savoured the scent of white tea, wood cedar and vanilla.

Byakuya furrowed his brow. Somehow, Touko had slipped into the room before he shut the door. He glared but decided to let her stay, and he put the box down on his bed. It saved him a trip to her room, anyway.

“Scissors, please,” he said, and he stretched out an arm.

Though he couldn’t see her face behind him, he imagined Touko scrunching it as she hitched up her skirt. After the rustling, he felt the cool metal of a pair of scissors against his palm, pulled out from from the ugly leather pouch on her leg. Years ago, he had tried to purchase a pair of her scissors online, only for them to turn out to be counterfeit. Now, he was using them to open a box containing a cosplay, so different to what they were usually used for - murder.

He slit the tape on top of the box, careful not to tear anything inside, and with his fingers hooked through the loops of the scissors, he peeled the box flaps outward. Inside were two clear bags, each containing parts of one costume, and he opened the one at the top.

Celes hadn’t lied about Hifumi’s craftsmanship. Byakuya extracted a silky, white frill collar, then a blue tabard bordered with white lace, then a red cape trimmed with a generous amount of fur and a pair of orange short shorts. The pair of earrings that he extracted next, shaped like pumpkins, must have been handmade but were fit to be sold at a store or at least at a con. After Byakuya satisfied himself with rolling them between two fingers, he progressed through the rest of the bag. Out came a short, red wig with a snowy feather on the top, and a white bra, to be worn under the tabard. It was more revealing than anything he had seen Touko in, for he guessed that this was meant to be Touko’s outfit. He put it aside and took out the other bag.

Only, the other costume was a patchwork dress, with a few loose threads that better have been intentional. Most of the patches were pastel, fabric, but the rest were pieces of fabric designed to appear to be cuttings from a newspaper. This dress came with a white bonnet, soft and dotted once with a pink bow at the front, that was to be worn over a platinum blonde wig that Byakuya could easily have retrieved by himself.

“This must be yours,” he said, pinching the shoulders of the tatty dress. “There’s no way I’ll fit into this. But that would mean...”

... the first outfit was meant for him. He flung his gaze onto the tabard, the short shorts and the bra.

“I t-thought he finished the rest while I slept! That cow did this to humiliate you!” Touko squawked. She waved her fists. “Don’t worry, Byakuya-sama, I will... I will...”

“Wearing this won’t humiliate me,” he said coolly, and her rage dampened, sizzling to a crispy silent. He set down the dress and reaches for the other costume, the one with the cape and the tabard. “Turn around and don’t move.”

Touko hung her her head but twirled on her heel. Byakuya watched her back for a few seconds before loosening his tie. Even though she couldn’t see him, and he had told her not to move, the back of his neck prickled, like she could and did see him, so he hurriedly donned the costume.

Though snug, the shorts and bra didn’t dig into him. Foregoing the earrings but putting on the red wig, he walked over to his wardrobe and opened it. A full length mirror inside gave him a clear view of this figure. His high heeled boots, lined with fur, ended below the knees, and the tabard barely passed his shorts. He adjusted the frill collar, frowning, before picking at one of his black gloves that matched the boots, flaring at the top.

“B-Beautiful...” Touko’s voice floated over.

Byakuya narrowed his eyes and craned his neck around. She had disobeyed his order and faced him with a quivering smile, hands squeezing the other like they caged something precious, like a secret or her racing heart.

A muscle twitched in his cheek. “I said not to move,” he reminded her.

Touko lost her composure and squeaked. Her arms flapped a few times despite her not seeming to be on the verge of toppling over, and soon she smacked her hands together, hips wiggling but both of her feet safely on flat flooring.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help myself...” She gripped the root of her braids, one in each fist. “I’m... a bad girl who needs to be disciplined. S-Shall I... bend over? Would you rather stand or have me over your lap?”

“You may bend over,” he said. Touko ogled him. He quickly added, “But not for the reason you think. I wish to see what you look like in your costume.”

She stared at him.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” she said back.

Byakuya massaged his temples for a few seconds.

“I’m not going to repeat myself. Put on your costume right now.”

“N-Now?”

“Yes?” He turned up his nose. “Is there some issue?”

She bit her lip and shook her head.

Byakuya pointed at her. “So get on with it right this second.”

Blushing, Touko slowly grabbed the lapel of her blazer and removed the article of clothing. It thumped at her feet.

The dress would hide the scars on her left thigh, which she showed him when she confessed her secret to him several months after they had been acquainted with each other. Even if the puffy skirt didn’t go down that far, the patchwork tights would hide the scars anyway. He remembered staring at them, pink, carved into pale flesh, and his first thoughts hadn’t been that they were ugly. There hadn’t been many thoughts, any thoughts, just a fascination, a constant drip of blood on a patio tile outside as a puzzle came together in the warmth within him.

Touko met his eyes briefly but couldn’t even chip his flinty pair, glazed in thought, so she averted her gaze and carried on stripping.

Her hair would have to be tucked away under the blond wig, styled with curly twintails. Personally, he preferred her braids, dark and longer. They suited her image of literacy girl, along with her owl-eye glasses and the small mole by one corner of her chapped lips.

As she undressed, she kept hesitating, as she slipped out of her shoes, as she pulled off her socks, and her gaze lingered longest on him as she reached for the hem of her skirt.

For the makeup, Touko wouldn’t need a great deal. Foundation, some lip gloss and blush, although she often bloomed with colour when around him.

None of her glances penetrated - he still didn’t respond to the questions in her eyes, lost in thought and passively aware of his surroundings. She bit her lip, her thighs trembled, and with a tug, her skirt slid into a pile of folds by her feet. Byakuya’s eyes instinctively darted from her feet to the little black bow on her panties.

Panties.

Realisation fell on him in an avalanche. He spun on his heel so he had his back to her, burning, and splayed his hand over the bottom half of his face.

“Byakuya-sama?” she called, and he did not want to answer her. “Are you... okay?”

“Just...” Oh, God. That came out as a croak. He cleared his throat. “Get on with it.”

Clothing whispered judgmentally behind him and despite what he said, he hoped that she wouldn’t be too quick, because his face needed some time to cool. They were just panties. A piece of clothing. Sexualised by society. Though her panties weren’t sexy. Hers were cute, perhaps, but not... sexy...

 _Cute_.

He shook his head.

“You can watch if you want,” she simpered.

Touko had to be doing this on purpose.

Byakuya adjusted his glasses, if only to give his hand something to do. “I’m losing patience,” he said.

She yelped and rustled more. There were soft thuds too, and hissing breathless zips, and swishing, and then, finally, she said, “I’m ready.”

He turned around slowly and from a distance, inspected Touko. In a gloved hand, she held her glasses. Touko blinked, bare without her eyewear, and the blond wig contrasted with her natural darker hair colour. A wisp fell between her eyes, squirming as she fidgeted with the wig. Shabby though the outfit was, she did look like a princess, even if her presence didn’t commandeer people’s attention like an actual princess at their school did.

Still. She had his. Byakuya tilted his head to one side.

Initially, Touko smirked, but the silence grew more discouraging. “Byakuya-sama...?”

He parted his lips, staring. She wringed the bottom of her skirt.

“It looks like... I’m the one who they wanted to humiliate...” Her voice cracked and she shifted her weight between feet in white doll shoes. “They wanted to embarrass me in front of you... in front of everyone...”

Touko closed her eyes, held onto her head and shook it. The rest of her body shook too as she teetered on a sob.

“Oi, stop that,” he said, and she hugged herself. “What you’re doing now is pitiful, but how you look...”

His tongue was reluctant to cooperate.

“... isn’t too bad,” he finished.

She shivered before tensing, and she opened her eyes, put her glasses back on and peered at him curiously. They met each other’s gaze briefly, but then he averted his eyes away quickly.

“Beauty is only skindeep,” he said stiffly. “Now, don’t move.”

As he strode past her, she only followed him with her eyes. Byakuya walked over to the light switch and flicked it so the only light in the room came from the window, seeping in between the blinds. Despite the limited lighting, he could distinguish Touko, stood statue-like in a spotlight that gaped floating dust particles, and he positioned himself in front of her.

“In the dark, appearance matters even less,” he told her. He bent his legs to reduce the height difference between him and her, and then he took her glasses off. Touko’s face seemed to have frozen over, and not putting much thought into it, he cupped her cheek. Why, he didn’t know, and he probably doesn’t know, even now. Maybe it was so she knew he was there, because without her glasses, her eyesight was limited. Maybe.

Her breathing hitched and her legs buckled, but she didn’t collapse, too strong for that despite her weaknesses, like how she loved, and her cheek stuck to his hand like he smeared it in glue before touching her.

“It doesn’t matter,” he told himself in a murmur, “what you...”

She nodded, and at the same time, they leaned inward. Shadows played tricks with the light, that was what he told himself, all the way up to them inching to a breath width away.

He refused to be the victim to their prank, however, so he gave her glasses back to her, removed his hand and added, “Therefore, I don’t want to hear you complain.”

Byakuya dusted his hand on his thigh.

“I won’t,” she promised, shoulders sinking. She put her glasses on. His lips pressed together at one end.

“Don’t just do it for my sake.” He wagged a finger at her, hating how his heart skipped while he said that. “Do it for your own sake too. You’re giving people ideas they wouldn’t otherwise have. It is one of your talents... a dangerous one that you use to benefit you in your writing, but is detrimental how you utilise it in person.”

It was a skill that he admired. That could almost wind its way around him as he skimmed through her books, written with strength gained by pain not always from heartbreak, that not many could endure, let alone weaponise themselves with. But she could, and she did. Just with words.

If she wanted to, she could be terrifyingly brilliant.

Touko nodded, but he didn’t know how closely she was listening. That nauseating smile of hers crawled back onto her face.

“All that’s left to do now is makeup,” he said, and he walked quickly back to the light switch and flicked it, restoring full light to the room.

“What I’ve got is clumped together and old, b-because I only use it to hide blemishes... and besides, I don’t know how to apply makeup,” she apologised. She clutched her head. “Argh... I’ve failed... as a woman...”

“You did fail,” he said, no more, no less, never to mince words. He swept some red hair away from his eyes. “Fortunately for you, however, I can do it for the both of us.”

“... Huh?”

Byakuya looked over his shoulder. “I won’t clean the gunk in your ears, but I’ll do our makeup.”

“Y-You know how?”

“I know many things.” He marched over to his vanity, custom-designed by a company well-known to the elite. Wood, frosty white, an intricate pattern of leaves, bordered the square frame of its mirror. “We’ll use mine. Come.”

The ends of her lips peaked. “I need a bit more foreplay for that.”

It took him a moment. Then he shuddered. As submissive as she appeared, she was one of the few who could strike back with a comeback in her next breath, and in his distaste lay some regard.

“To the vanity,” he clarified. He pointed to the plum cushion seat on the stool beside it and sternly, he said, “I’ll change my mind in five seconds. Five... Four...”

Touko bounded over to the vanity and sat down obediently. She rested her glasses on the vanity before cupping her hands over her knees. The rest of the countdown fizzled out.

“Don’t move,” he said, and he opened the first drawer.

Neither spoke as he went through the necessary steps. Wipe. Foundation. Lipgloss. Eyeliner. Her eyes twitched as he tried to draw in black with a fine brush across her lids.

Byakuya’s lips smacked in annoyance and he withdrew the brush from her eyes.

“I can’t apply it properly if you keep fluttering your lashes,” he said.

“I’m trying not to,” she said. She took her hands off her knees and clasped her hands together. “Is it distracting you?”

“Yes. But it’s physically hindering me as well,” he replied with a huff.

Byakuya blotted around her eyes with a cotton bud and tended to them some more. After some adjustments, her eyes matched, and he placed the eyeliner on the vanity. He retrieved his mascara from the drawer and leaned in close again.

“I didn’t know you had expertise in makeup,” she murmured.

“I experimented with it when I was younger,” he replied, lying with past tense. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

“Likewise,” she said.

“Oh?” He sought her gaze. “Like what? Like you share a body with a serial killer?”

His remark creased her face.

“I’m full of surprises too,” she said, her eyes playing tricks with the light. Shining, gleaming, radiating. Pulling him into orbit. They were a pale, pleasant violet.

“You say that,” he said, “but what could you possibly do to take me by surp-?”

Touko didn’t need to close much distance to kiss him. His glasses bumped against her. She kissed him, to his surprise.

And he kissed her back.

Maybe that was more surprising.

Or maybe,

as he took off his glasses, as she draped her arms over his shoulders and his hands cupped her cheeks,

maybe it wasn’t as surprising as it seemed.

* * *

 

Byakuya assessed his competition from the back of the classroom after he dealt with everyone’s comments and smirks, underneath a banner that Hifumi illustrated with ghouls and Yasuhiro blessed with his calligraphy. Touko stood beside him, resting her tongue and cradling a glass of punch, enrapt by its smooth surface and content just being with him and their secret. Some of the costumes, he rolled his eyes at, like three humanoid turtles, painted green, wearing baggy clothes sloppily painted and wearing different coloured eye masks. Mondo in red, Makoto in blue and Chihiro in purple.

He changed his gaze to a different target.

Nearby, Aoi danced with Sakura, but she had to keep glancing back at her mermaid tail that she dragged behind her, leaving a trail of glitter, in case someone seemed about to step on it, and Sakura, dressed in a regal dark blazer with red shorts, a crown on her head to suggest royalty, also kept an eye on Aoi’s tail.

“Has anyone seen Ikusaba-san and Enoshima-san?” asked Sayaka, fanning herself with a drab bowler hat.

Kyouko twiddled her smoking pipe. “I haven’t seen them at all today.”

“It better be good,” said Leon, caked in white makeup and blue eyeshadow and dressed as Marilyn Manson. Byakuya only knew who he was meant to be because Leon had shouted it after Yasuhiro asked if he was a clown from a Stephen King Novel.

Celes nodded. “Indeed... Enoshima-san has been bragging about it all week.”

Her twin drill tails had been exchanged for pigtails tied with red ribbon, to match her lipstick, and her dress, though as gothic as what she usually wore, lacked white, and around her neck hung a cross necklace. Next to Celes, only recognisable due to his physique, was Hifumi, his face white and snake-like with blue markings under his chin and across his cheeks, and on the end of his dyed pale ahoge. Below the shoulders, he wore a suit made to look like a skeleton, like the portable radiators around them room, and sweat patches could be seen below his arms.

At least Byakuya’s skimpy outfit stopped him from getting too hot.

“Yoo-hoo!” came Junko’s voice.

Everyone turned. Junko and Mukuro had to squeeze in through the door sideways, and only when they faced the rest of the class did it become apparent why. The two wore a costume together, each with a beachball stored under a white top, connected by a large, red bra, its straps over the outmost shoulder of both twins.

“I told you that we’d have the best costume,” said Junko, beaming, while Mukuro looked like she wouldn’t mind if the ceiling came down on her or several spears appeared out of nowhere to skewer her.

Byakuya turned his head away. Victory would be his. He met Touko’s eyes and she smiled, and he gave a small one back.

“Thank you for all coming,” said Fira-sensei from a podium brought into the classroom for the party. She swept the floor with shining eyes, over sixteen students and fifteen costumes. “You’ve all worked so hard, that I’m going to have to give you all extra credit. However, only one person can win, and I’ve taken a lot of things into account, such as how appropriate it is, how much work was put into it, overall appearance and the effect. And the winner is...”

No one breathed.

“...Darth Vader!”

The person in question ambled over to the podium, which Fira-sensei stepped away from to give them room. Their costume was high quality but still made rather than bought - the cape was made from a black bin bag, and the control panel on the chest painted. They stood perfectly still for a good ten seconds, and then they slowly lifted their helmet off.

“Ishimaru!” Mondo yelled above a splattering of gasps. “You traitor!”

“Congratulations,” said Fira-sensei. “As the winner, Ishimaru-kun, you will get a bag of candy, a trophy, and you may be excused from the winter run.”

“Thank you, Fira-sensei, but while I accept the last prize, I will not use it,” he said, face red and sweaty from being stuck in his helmet for so long. He allowed a pause for everyone to blanch in. “I simply did not want anyone to miss out on the run, so I took it upon myself to enter and win. It’s a bonding exercise. You may thank me now.”

No one said anything, but their eyes spoke, shouted themselves raw.

Kiyotaka’s smile strained.

“You like runs?” said Mondo. He cracked his knuckles. “Then today is your lucky day. You’ve got a ten second head start.”


End file.
